


Final Fantasy VI: The Untold Tales

by Zephyr Moore (ZephyrAM)



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-18 23:03:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2365262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZephyrAM/pseuds/Zephyr%20Moore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of side stories that the game doesn't delve into. Experiences of characters from before the story, during un-narrated sections of play, or while the specific characters are off screen. Intended for simple fun, and to further the lives of beloved characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Edgar's Desert Dilemma

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hey all! Just wanted to chime in here with some points. This series of short stories will be an experience in new writing types for me, mainly shorter stories. They'll all be individual scenes that are really as long or short as they end up being; whatever feels right. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VI, its characters, or lore.

You'd think, with all the fancy machinery and gadgets in Figaro castle, that they'd have created an effective way of keeping the building cooler. The place was situated out in the center of the desert, for gods sake, so why did they have nothing more then a bunch of noisy fans that did little more then blow the absurdly hot air around?

The blond man sighed at the thought as he sat upon the throne, listening to the problems and issues of the kingdom as the people lay them out before him. Edgar Roni Figaro, merely called Edgar unless in trouble with his Chancellor and staff (an event that happened more then you'd think of a king), struggled to keep his attention on those speaking, as he truly did value their input... but really, he was well aware of their concerns already, and as more beads of sweat rolled down his back, he felt less and less regal by the moment. Now, if they really wanted his attention, they'd bring up the very issue currently bothering him and force that old Chancellor to give him the time to work on it, but no, it seemed everyone was simply accustomed to the heat, and spoke no more of it. His past attempts to bring it up merely earned him disappointed looks as they told him to pay attention to 'duties worthy of a king'... whatever that was supposed to imply. The people's comfort seemed worthy enough to him.

Oh, but they wouldn't be able to stop him forever. He wasn't just the king, he was also the kingdom's lead engineer. He learned how to make an entire castle move beneath the ground itself! How hard could it be to simply lower the temperature of the air?

Well, hard apparently, as he'd yet to succeed. Not that he'd had as much time to try as he'd like, but still, he was annoyed with himself. The problem rose before him once again, formulas and mechanics dancing through his mind as the issue pulled him in, consuming him entirely.

“King Edgar?” The call shattered the pictures in his thoughts. He blinked a few times before shifting his gaze to the speaker, all the while fighting down a blush of embarrassment at being caught unaware in front of the assembly. Still, he hadn't been king over these years for nothing, and no sense of distraction appeared upon his face. Only those that knew him best would recognize his lapse for what it was, though sadly, that would be enough for him to hear about it later, that much he knew. The speaker continued, “Would you care to deliberate on the issue further?”

Edgar glanced at the person currently on the floor before him, remembering what he knew of the man and pulling together bits and pieces from the previous minutes before he'd inadvertently stopped listening. The king of Figaro wouldn't be an engineering genius without being intelligent, and he demonstrated it again then by swiftly grasping the topic and its resolution without allowing the silence to become stifling.

“No,” Edgar said as he leaned forward in his chair and smiled at the man before him “we'll do this...”

 

\----------------------------------------

 

It's amazing how tired a person can get by sitting in a chair for hours. Edgar stretched and rolled his stiff shoulders as he made his way through the castle halls, finally released from the daily tasks of managing a kingdom. As much as he really cared about the kingdom of Figaro and its livelihood, even a king needed a break now and then, and if there was one thing Edgar was good at (aside from mechanical development), it was knowing how to make good use of free time. An excited glint came into his eye as his strides lengthened; he had a goal in mind, and nothing and nobody was going to deter him now.

Almost no one.

“Oh, King Edgar!” A soft, female voice halted his steps instantly as he turned smoothly toward the source. Before him stood a lady of the castle, smiling shyly his way. She was not of his direct court, nor did he know her name, but that didn't stop him, not even close. Ever the gentleman, he was in a half bow before her within moments, holding her hand in his and giving her his most dazzling smile.

“My lady,” he greeted kindly. “What may I do for a beautiful girl such as yourself?”

Her cheeks tinted as a giggle escaped her lips, giving hint to her stature: no longer a girl, not yet a woman. “I was merely wondering, my Lord, if you'd care to join me for a meal? I was on my way to such, you see, when I saw you just now, and I thought, well, perhaps...” Her words trailed off, getting quieter as she continued speaking, and Edgar inwardly smiled, truly smiled, at her innocence. Being held in high regard by his people was a constant source of joy for him and never failed to brighten his mood.

Especially coming from beautiful young ladies.

Debonair smile in place, he raised her hand to his lips, silencing her instantly. “I would love nothing more, dear lady.”

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

Evening found Edgar alone at last, sequestered away among the bits and pieces of machinery scattered around the room he used specifically for inventing and creating new devices... or 'toys' as his less accepting advisers referred to them. Wires and scrap metal littered the floor in great amount, be they parts unneeded in a previous project or the remains of failed ones, the latter of which did occur fairly frequently. Even for a great mechanical mind like Edgar's, no creation came without trial and error, success and failure, and he'd long since learned to accept it all as part of the process and never let it get him down. One success made everything worthwhile.

Papers lay haphazardly across the worktable at which he sat, notes and diagrams scribbled over their surfaces as he worked over them, his mind a flurry of ideas, problems and solutions. Beads of sweat occasionally crept down his brow, serving only to remind him of why he was so determined to design this new creation. With a sigh though, he leaned back, exasperated.

“It always comes back to the same thing... how do I create cold air out of nothing?” He forced himself to his feet, rocking and nearly knocking over his chair in the process before pacing around the room, nimbly avoiding the scrap upon the floor. “There's nothing but hot air here, and in abundance! But if I 'had' any cold air, I wouldn't need this thing in the first place!” Frustration, as he'd learned in the past, was never a good friend, and so, once again he forced himself to stop, take a deep breath, and step back from the problem. The solution was all that mattered, not the problem. “Think of the solution...” he muttered to himself, calmer now as he moved around the room, eyes only half seeing the things in front of them. “What things can cause air to cool? And how do they do so?” Living his life in a desert kingdom, even as a king and inventor, he wasn't really around cool or cold things much, but at the same time, by living in such heat, the people valued the cold all the more. Things like the cool waters of an oasis, or the way the night breeze's would occasionally seem to pull the heat from the very stones of the castle.

“That's it!” Edgar nearly shouted, suddenly focusing on all the random items he'd previously been ignoring. Here and there, from one corner to the next, he was suddenly scanning the room with the intensity of a starving hawk. “I'll need one of those parts from that thing, some tubes from there... some of that...”

 

 

_The next morning..._

 

 

To say the Chancellor was annoyed would be a mild understatement. He was to meet with the king that morning to discuss with his Majesty numerous details of the kingdom, yet the regular morning meal had come and gone with no sign of him. Such was not precisely an unheard of occurrence, but after venturing to the king's chamber, it appeared that he was not to be found there either. Which only left one other likely place.

And it was not the Chancellor's favorite place.

It was not so much that he begrudged the king his enjoyment in the activity, nor that he dismissed the benefit it had thus far brought to the kingdom, it was merely that he believed the king tended to mix up his priorities when it came to new machines.

That, and they were so very, very dirty. Were he the king's tailor, he was sure he'd faint dead away at the sight of the black, greasy stains that often made their way onto the man's royal garments.

Regardless, the king's tendencies did at least make his easier to find at times like this. He simply thanked the stars that there were to be no public gatherings that the king need attend anytime soon. Still, as he came upon the room in question, he wondered if he would find the king asleep or awake. He honestly wasn't sure which he would prefer.

Loud clanging as he open the door answered the question for him, and the king shot to his feet just as the Chancellor entered the room, holding some sort of bulky new gadget in his arms. The Chancellor merely sighed at the sight. “Your Majesty, I see you've been at it again.”

Eyes that shone with far too much energy for the bags beneath them snapped up to his own. “Chancellor! You're just in time, I've just completed it!” Edgar swung it around within his arms, situating it in his grasp as one would a weapon, which it vaguely resembled. This, also, failed to surprise the Chancellor. “Look here! This device can actually produce cold air! I finally figured it out, though I thought I'd go mad doing so!”

One eyebrow raised as the Chancellor smiled at his king's sheer enthusiasm. “So, you've been up all night making something that blows air? Sire, we already have fans for that all around the castle.”

Edgar gave a quick shake of his head, grinning widely. “No. No. Those only push around the same hot air that we already have. 'This' though, this actually takes in air, of any temperature mind you, cools it, and blows it back out that way: cold! We'll finally be able to beat this sweltering desert heat!” The king looked so delighted with the whole prospect that the Chancellor simply gave a small chuckle and shook his head, with not the heart to chastise him... but Edgar wasn't finished yet. “Here, let me show you...”

Instantly, the Chancellor's face went slightly pale, remembering that the king had only just finished as he got there. He waved his hands out before him as Edgar prepped the machine, revving it up. “T-that won't be necessary, my liege. Perhaps a test first... away from us...”

“Nonsense!” Edgar comforted as he fiddled with the controls. “Ah! Got it.” Taking aim at his Chancellor, Edgar pulled the handle. “Here we go!”

Bursting forth from the front opening came a veritable frost cloud of white air. So frigid was the air that after its short burst the machine froze itself over, the entire front end going white with frost as icicles stood straight out from the edges. Edgar's smile froze as well, becoming stiff as he looked upon his Chancellor, who's sleeves had frozen straight out after being pushed by the initial air blast. Ice coated his attire from head to toe, flecking apart on his lashes as he opened his eyes to reveal an annoyed gaze.

“N-now then, your m-majesty, I w-will meet you a-as planned after I f-freshen up.” Shivers stuttered the poor Chancellor's words and ice cracked and splintered from his clothing as he bowed before turning to leave. Thankfully, there was no lack of heat to be had.

Alone again, Edgar turned to peer down as his creation, now hopelessly frozen over. “Hmm,” he mused, “a bit too much power perhaps...”

 

 


	2. Terra's New Journey

It was like she was in a storybook world. Her wide-eyed gaze fluttered across the landscape, never pausing for too long before spotting something else new and interesting to look upon. Expressions danced across her face, as her simple, joyful smile gave way to sheer open-mouthed wonder. Ever since they moved on from the caves surrounding the mining town of Narshe, every moment had been an adventure, and with no impending danger or troubles to worry about, it was one she was free to experience and enjoy. Possibly for the first time in her life.

Sneaking peeks as he walked along beside her, Locke couldn't help but smile at her exuberance toward what was to him a simple walk along the flat plains between the rugged hills of Narshe and the sweeping desert surrounding Figaro. So much of her personality and nature was nothing at all as he'd heard about her in the past, but then, he supposed that was only natural with her circumstances. No one was really themselves under the yoke of a slave crown.

The thought pulled at his smile, sobering his mood even as he watched her gaze around as if the entire world was new, because indeed, to her it may have been. Did she remember anything while under the effects of the slave crown? Things she'd seen in the past, things she'd experienced or been taught? And how long had she even worn the accursed thing? Did she remember things from before the crown? 'Was' there even a time for her before the crown?

The questions bore into him, refusing to be pushed aside. Curiosity compelled him to find the answers through the only means possible...

“Hey, Terra,” sparkling eyes met his own as he caught her attention, and he prayed that he wouldn't cause them to dim, “do you remember anything from... before? Any of this?”

Her gaze followed his hands as he gestured around, her smile blessedly remaining even while her face turned pensive. For a moment, she was silent, perhaps gathering her thoughts before sharing them. “Not in the way you'd think, no.” She paused, tilting her head to watch a flock of birds fill the sky as they passed. “It's like, somewhere my mind knows these things exist: the birds, the trees, the animals... but I know nothing about them. I know what they're called, and I can recognize them on sight, but I don't know the sounds they make, or how soft their fur is, or the way the wind smells coming through the trees.” The breeze swept past them, drawing her eyes to the swaying wildflowers at her feet, which she knelt beside, softly gliding her fingers along the petals. Her smile softened, tinted with melancholy. “I knew no appreciation for any of it, like the entire world was a mere picture book, with no life to it.” Shyness suddenly seemed to overcome her, and she peered up at Locke through her swaying green hair. “Does that make any sense?”

Locke hated the empire at that moment, more intensely then he had in long while. Yet, he couldn't hold on to that negativity in the face of her innocent smile, and so he merely nodded, offering her a hand up, which she took, not caring at all about her now damp knees. “Yeah, I think I get what you're saying.” Rather then elaborate, he swallowed his words. Hearing the truth of her life spoken back to her could only cause sadness. “Well then, I hope you're ready, you'll see a lot more on the way to Figaro. And my good pal Edgar and I will make sure you don't miss a thing!”

Terra giggled at his silly grin and enthusiasm, facing forward to look off into the distance as the wind rustled her hair once more. In the distance, a yellowish blur could be seen on the horizon, marking the start of the desert, and her real journey ahead. Tingles seem to run through her, and she was helpless before the smile that shone on her face.

“I can't wait.”


	3. Seeking Vargas

He worried.

Vargas wasn't acting like himself, and Sabin was worried. After all, they'd grown up together, living and training under Master Duncan's tutelage. They were practically brothers, isolated as they were in the home of their hermit teacher, learning the ways of martial arts day in and day out. They sparred together, ate together, laughed together; for years, basically their entire young lives.

Yet now Master Duncan was dead, and all signs indicated what should have been impossible, that Vargas himself was responsible. Why, though? What could possibly bring the son to kill the father? What reasoning could ever explain such an action? Sabin didn't know, and honestly, he didn't want to, he just wanted to be wrong about this. He wouldn't believe it though, not yet, not until he was sure, not until he had the answer in front of him.

Sadly, Vargas hadn't stuck around to give any answers, and so Sabin held his questions in check, refusing to let himself consider why the man would abandon his dying father's side. Not along with everything else. So he tracked him, following the man to the base of Mt. Kolts, an area he was thankfully familiar with from their training, and a place that Vargas may well remain. Caves honeycombed the mountain, and they'd taken shelter in them many times in the past, hunting down the local wildlife for food and further training... all in better times.

Nostalgia was not what Sabin was there for though, and he took to the mountainside with determination, forgoing the easy walking paths across and through the structure, just as he'd always been taught. He knew that Vargas as well would take such a route; regardless of anything else, the man believed in the teachings they'd studied and pushed himself beyond the limits of a normal man, all in the pursuit of strength. 'Strong heart, strong mind, strong body' taught Master Duncan, drilling such lessons into their heads while their bodies rested and recovered. 'Strength isn't just in those bulky arms' he would say. Master Duncan always did have his favorite sayings...

'Even the most musclebound fool is still a fool!'

'That rock on your shoulders isn't just for show you know!'

'Strength does not make right. Right makes strength.'

Fog began to roll in around him as Sabin pulled himself smoothly up the cliff side, lost in his memories as he moved his body tirelessly onward. Creatures of the area ignored him, barely even spotting him upon the rugged terrain before he'd moved past, similarly unconcerned with them. In his eyes, he saw only those of his friend and sparring partner, eyes that had grown darker with the passing of days. Youthful innocence outgrown, Vargas had developed a spiteful streak, one which Sabin, with his kind heart, had overlooked, and now he forced himself to look back on things. Harsh words he'd taken for mere playful banter, vicious blows he'd thought only over exuberance... Had he really been so blind, or was his grief over his master's loss twisting his perception? He couldn't decide, wouldn't decide, not yet. First, he needed to find Vargas, and then... then he'd sort things out.

On a nearby ledge, Sabin caught side of a brown bear sauntering by, likely off to find a meal, and he remembered the first time he'd come across one with Master Duncan. He'd simply told Sabin to fight it, and he'd thought the man mad, to which his teacher had only laughed boisterously before throwing his student into harms way, literally – he actually 'threw' Sabin in front of the bear. 'It's not the size that matters,' Master Duncan had yelled, responding to Sabin's initial concerns, 'it's the claws you should watch for!' A grin spread across his face then as he recalled that he didn't really remember how that fight had ended, which likely had to do with him failing a dodge and eating a bear paw.

Bears are faster then they look, no joke.

Master Duncan had pulled his backside from the fire that time, but it wasn't the last time a bear became his sparring partner, nor would Vargas be left out of the 'fun', and it became a regular occurrence. Very little strikes fear into a person's heart like an eight foot tall, half ton bear, and thanks to that, the boys quickly learned how to control their own fear, instead of being controlled by it. It did all feel a bit unfair, as the bear would've gladly squashed them but they weren't allowed to really do it harm, but that was just Master Duncan's style, and honestly, Sabin wouldn't have had it any other way.

A rock slipped from his grasp, nearly dropping Sabin down the rock wall and definitely sending his heart up into his throat as he grappled for a hold. The tapping crack of rock on rock echoed in his ears as the piece bounced its way down the mountainside, and he cursed himself for his carelessness as the sound faded away, disappearing down into the fog with its source. A thousand feet up was not the place to be reminiscing.

With renewed focus, he pushed his senses outward rather then inward. Vargas could have been anywhere on the mountain, and though Sabin didn't believe that he'd stay in the lower reaches, it wasn't an impossibility that he'd already passed the man he was searching for, and the thought would've made him flush in embarrassment if anyone else had been around to know. As it was, he merely worked his way toward the actual mountain path, intent on taking his bearings from there. There was little in the way of landmarks going up the mountain, as the path was generally little more then a less rugged, flatter stretch of ground, but as luck would have it, his eyes snagged on a suspension bridge stretched across a break in the path otherwise traversable only by a near vertical sheer of cliff wall. Though a long way off from his current spot, it was an area he knew of, and it meant he was nearing the last stretch of caves before the mountain peak. After that, the mountain spiked upward, basically uninhabitable due to lack of shelter, food, and water.

Satisfied, Sabin moved to enter the nearby caves and nearly missed the movement down by the thin, wooden bridge. Anticipation quickly melted into curiosity as he spotted three moving figures rather then just the one he'd hoped for, but travelers in such an area certainly weren't common. There was almost nothing on the other side of Mt. Kolts, just an empty valley completely encircled within the mountain range. When Master Duncan had determined that his two students needed a long term journey for training, the valley was where they went. Nothing but wild land for miles and miles around. So who...

Sabin's sharp eyes only barely picked out another figure leaping across the cliff side, clearly separate from the trio approaching the bridge. His fists tightened and his blood raced as he strained to pick out the figure through the fog. It took a ridiculous amount of strength and effort to actually jump between handholds while climbing, and it was something even Sabin didn't do without reason.

But Vargas would.

His feet were moving before he even realized it, carrying him down the narrow path. It couldn't have been coincidence to see Vargas and the group of strangers so close together, and if they continued following the path, Sabin knew where they'd end up; it was the perfect place for Vargas to cut them off. Vargas always had to be the best, always had to prove his strength, it was precisely why he pushed himself to leap up a mountain rather then just climb it, and it was why he fought with Sabin constantly – his competitive nature. Or, so Sabin had always assumed, but now, with all the possibilities rolling around in his head, he could only ask himself, 'if' Vargas were capable of killing his own father, what would he do to a bunch of strangers out in the middle of nowhere?

Sabin prayed he was wrong, that Vargas merely wanted to challenge them, once again prove that he was stronger, but he couldn't stop the thoughts going through his head. He couldn't stop thinking of the shadow he'd seen in his friend's eyes. He couldn't stop thinking of the times Master Duncan had forcibly separated Vargas and the bear, to protect the animal, or how Sabin had always ended up with far more injuries from sparring. He couldn't stop thinking of everything he'd ever ignored and overlooked in the past, but he nurtured that hope in his heart that believed in Vargas just as he had for so many years.

Voices echoed through the high, mountain air and Sabin pushed himself faster; he was almost there, and for better or worse, Vargas' actions in the next few minutes could well tell him more then all the questions he could think to ask. The path looped around the cliff just ahead, a bend that brought the path around to overlooking the largest flat area on the mountain, where Sabin had always figured part of the cliff had actually splintered and fell away, and as he slid around that turn, Sabin spotted them, all four of them, right where he expected to see them. Except that Vargas was the only one standing.

His heart dropped. The sound from their words didn't echo clearly enough for him to understand them, but as the seconds slipped by, the situation became apparent. As he feared, Vargas was attacking them, and though they clearly couldn't keep up with the man, Vargas only pushed onward. Sabin felt frozen, torn by his fading hopes and his desire to stop this madness, but when Vargas began a familiar technique, something finally settled in Sabin's heart. Acceptance, as much as he hated it, had found its way in. Vargas was readying to blow three total strangers clear off the edge of the mountain, killing them.

Vargas had killed Master Duncan.

Gritting his teeth, Sabin surged forward, bounding across the rocky cliff nearly faster then he could control. Sadness gripped him, but he refused it, channeling it into anger. As the wind intensified into a near typhoon, a girl's scream cut through the air and he leapt across the remaining distance, desperately hoping he reached her in time. There was no more room for indecision, no more time to waste. Every question had been answered, except one...

_Why, Vargas?!_


	4. Shadow's Escape

Onward he ran, little more then a black blur racing across the crumbling landscape. He'd held off that mad clown, Kefka, for as long as he could, but as the world itself seemed to come apart around him, Shadow knew that his time was running out. Honestly, he wasn't certain where he was running to, if there was anywhere left to even go. All around him the ground was splitting apart, whole chunks separating entirely and falling into the sky below, and his chances grew slimmer by the moment as he had to take more creative ways to avoid falling to certain doom. Were they still waiting for him, those that called themselves 'friends', or had they been forced to flee, lest the airship they so relied upon be caught up in the chaos around them? Perhaps they had not even made it to the ship in the end, caught upon the falling ground and dropped into the open air below. Or perhaps the ship itself had fallen prey to the debris all around, forced to abandon the island and land or be smashed upon the earth below? Shadow was, perhaps, the only one left alive, running in vain toward a goal that no longer existed.

Yet still, he ran.

It'd been a long time since he had to trust and rely on anyone else, yet now that was all that he 'could' do. By risking his life to buy the others time to escape, he had connected himself to them in a way that he had no other, not in 'this' life at least, and he still didn't quite know why he'd done it at all. Maybe it had been her eyes in his head, a source of conscience that he'd lost many years ago, forever, or so he'd thought. Yet somehow their paths had crossed again, even ended up on the same journey, with the same goal. He'd thought that it didn't matter, that it was mere coincidence, that she was nothing to him...

He'd been wrong, and because of it, he was now closer to death then he'd ever been. Yet, provided the world didn't end, his actions may have kept her alive, and he couldn't bring himself to regret them. After fighting for more then just money – for a reason, for a life – Shadow felt less like himself, and more like the man he'd once been. The pull of normalcy, or what passed for it under the circumstances, tugged at him, reminding him of what could have been... and perhaps could still be.

He squashed the thought, harshly. A ruined world, or a dead world, provided no opportunity for profit, no means to make a living, and for that reason, and that reason alone, would he continue to aid the others in their quest. This was the life he'd chosen, and this was the life he'd live: a life with room for himself, and no one else. He would survive, and he would continue on, no matter the state of the world or any of those in it.

Returned to the Shadow he'd become, he pushed all thoughts from his mind and focused solely on survival: speed, awareness, determination. The ground veritably flew beneath his feet as he pushed himself to move faster. He would reach the safety of the airship, return to the land, and put this whole folly behind him.

And if there was no ship waiting for him, then so be it. In a life that allowed for no mistakes, his first would rightfully be his last. Such was the way he had chosen...

… and there could be no turning back.

 


	5. To be a Returner

After riding down the wild rapids on a simple wooden raft, Terra's legs felt like pudding. Regardless though, she was pretty relieved to be off the water. Considering they lost one of their number to a giant talking octopus during the ride, her first experience on water (that she could remember) was one she was happy to put behind her. Thankfully, Edgar didn't seem nearly as concerned over Sabin's separation as she was, which helped calm her worry. The king seemed fully confident in his brothers ability to survive, and for that she was relieved.

So with that behind her, she now found herself heading back to the city that started it all, Narshe, this time accompanied by the flirtatious king she'd come to know fairly well and the leader of the Returners, Banon, who she felt she didn't know at all. They hadn't really had time to become acquainted back at the headquarters, and there certainly wasn't any simple chatting going on during that crazy raft ride. Actually, even the Returners as a group weren't something she knew much about, they were really just a concept to her. They were opposed to the Empire, that much was clear, but what lengths would they go to defeat them? What would they do once the Empire was gone? That they had people like Edgar and Locke among them meant a lot to her, and was the only reason she went to see them in the first place... but still.

It all really came to a point when she was asked to join them, and aid them in their fight against the Empire. Banon had called her 'their only hope', and said that she'd be the one to win the war. He made her nervous, honestly. Though he seemed well intentioned and kind, Banon didn't seem to see her as what she was... just a girl, one that didn't even know who she was, and certainly wasn't ready to have the fate of the world on her shoulders. Edgar did, Locke did, and their support was the only reason she hadn't curled up into a ball somewhere.

Sadly enough, even though she'd tried to make a decision back at the Returners base, in looking at her situation now, she realized that it hadn't decided anything at all. Regardless of her choice, she would have been right where she was, just coming off a raft escape from the Empire and returning to Narshe to see the Esper. She still felt like a game piece, moved by those around her. She still didn't really know what she was doing, or why...

“Hey,” the soft voice brought her out of her thoughts, and her eyes met Edgar's shining blue ones looking down at her. A smile to match the voice crossed his features. “I know that look. That's the 'worried thinker' Terra face.” Terra blinked; did her expressions come with labels? “What's wrong?”

Really, she hadn't even considered asking someone about things, rather then just thinking on her own, and if she couldn't ask her friends (her heart jumped in a way that made her smile to call others that) about her worries, then who could she? So she decided she would. “Edgar, why did you join the Returners?”

Eyebrow raised, Edgar's face showed his surprise at the question before he chuckled. “You do get right to the heart of it.” Facing forward, he gathered his thoughts. “I've hated the Empire for a long time. They conquered cities, rather then allying with them. They were always the largest country, yet they stockpiled an army, and were never afraid to use it. Whatever they wanted, they took, however they could.” His face hardened throughout the speech, becoming practically stone as he continued. “By the time I heard rumors that they'd poisoned my father to get their hands on Figaro, I was committed. He wanted nothing to do with the Empire, so they removed him. Simple as that.” By this point, Edgar's hands were in fists, lost in his memories and feelings toward the Empire, and Terra was becoming upset. She hadn't met to anger Edgar or make him remember sad times, she'd simply wanted to know why, but now, she wasn't sure it was worth it.

Still, when he looked down to find her small hands on his, it would've be hard to say who was more surprised. A feeling had come over her, and she hadn't even realized she had moved, she'd just wanted him to feel better. Now though, she moved intentionally, pulling her hands back to her sides in a flash as embarrassment settled into her face with a pink flush. For his part, Edgar, anger forgotten, crossed from surprise to amusement rapidly as he watched the expressions flit across her face. It was like watching a child, awkward and unsure of what to do.

His foul mood had effectively disappeared. “Anyway, that's why I joined the Returners. I wanted to do something to stop the Empire from doing whatever it wanted, and do something to maybe protect my people, those I care about, from ever being the next victims. That's it.”

Silence settled comfortably over them as she considered everything Edgar had to say. It all seemed fairly easy to see why people thought the Empire evil, and why they chose to fight it. Especially with what they'd done to her, it should've been an easy decision: fight them. She certainly never wanted to be under their control again, just the thought of things she'd done made her shudder... yet for some reason, it never seemed that simple in her mind. The Empire was bad, but they were still people. Why fight when it only caused pain?

Something from Edgar had resonated with her though: he fought to keep those he cared about safe. Would she fight to keep those close to her unhurt? Edgar, and Locke, and maybe even Sabin? The nice Chancellor of Figaro? The guards who'd smiled at her and welcomed her in? Arvis, the first man who's name she'd ever known, and who'd saved her life, 'given' her a life, and been nothing but kind to her? Would she hurt others, if she must, to protect them?

And suddenly the Returners made sense. She could imagine the people she'd seen roaming the hideout having lost people they cared about because of the Empire. Family, friends, lovers... She thought about losing Edgar now, who'd been with her through so much, or Locke, who'd helped her right from the start, or any number of others like them that she hadn't met yet. People had a right to live, happy and together.

She would fight the Empire, for as long as she needed, to protect the ones she cared about, no matter what. That was what it meant to be a Returner.


End file.
